Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dreadwind was panicking.

Now, it wasn’t often that this happened. In fact, this was the first time to his memory. His creator was a skilled mech, who only ever got injuries when squabbling with their aft of a leader. She never got hurt in battle. She was proud, and agile, and wounds were above her. She was untouchable! So seeing her like this- offline, energon everywhere, practically a scrapheap- terrified the young Decepticon.

He didn’t even know where to begin helping her. He was much too small to carry her back to base, and his comms would likely be ignored by the bigger ‘Cons, who per usual had more important business.

He could sense the coolant gathering in his optics as he began to feel overwhelmed. Why did he have to be so small and useless? Starscream was going to terminate here, and he couldn’t do anything about it. But before he could even get a hiccup out of his vocalizer, a voice spoke up behind him.

“Woah! Hey hey, kid, you okay?”

Not even bothering to see who it was, he was already shouting as he spun around. “Are you kidding?! If course we’re not o-” He jumped suddenly, optics widening. An Autobot stood over him, looking between the downed mech and Dreadwind with an outstretched servo.

“That’s, uh... Starscream’s a real dangerous guy to be around, kiddo. C’mon, let me get you out of here before she wakes up. Savin’ her ain’t gonna get you any points in her favor.” Concern bloomed on the ‘Bot’s face at the ugly scene before him. What a moron.

With a sniffle, Dreadwind stood his ground. Or rather, crouched. “I’m not going with you!” Primus, this wasn’t how his Starscream raised him. He wasn’t supposed to be breaking down at the slightest bump in the road, on his second mission to boot. If those fragging Autobots hadn’t-

His thoughts were interrupted when a servo clamped down on his pede. With a yelp of surprise, he turned, and saw his creator’s optics beginning to light up again. The ‘Bot behind him began to draw his blaster, and then suddenly the Seeker was hauling herself up again. Voicebox thick with static and damage, she attempted a vocal threat, as she powered up her null rays and shakily raised her arms.

“I-I-I-I- bzzz- ! Jazz-z-z-z- !”

Unable to even get a proper sentence out, she slammed at her vocalizer in frustration, before sputtering up energon and staggering. Clearly a mistake, but her levels were so low that she likely wasn’t processing straight. Dreadwind, though, was fully able to, and took advantage of the ‘Bot’s repulsion by activating his own blaster.

The opposing veteran was quicker, though, and he practically flash stepped forward to knock out the Decepticon SIC before turning his sights on the little ‘Con. And then, within moments, everything was black.

-

When Dreadwind onlined, the first thing he did was direct power to his optics. The room he was in was bright, and there was a light that shone right above him and a cool recharge slab underneath. Within kliks he was full power, glancing around before he sat up fully. The room- a medical wing?- was empty, excluding him and the frame a few berths over. Despite the mesh and weld lines, he could pick out right away that it was his creator. She wouldn’t be happy about the unsightly welding, that was for sure.

Sliding off the slab as quietly as possible, the young mech began his way towards the door, but paused upon hearing a voice outside.

“... Just mesh wounds on the sparkling….. another operation or two…. told him? ... Of course not... right now... ”

That’s when he heard the footsteps approaching. Following the coding that’s been ingrained since his sparking, he ducked into the nearest hiding place- an empty cabinet. And just in time, too, for the door slid open and a mech entered the room. There was a small chunk of time where whoever was in the room bustled about, before there was an audible gasp and a curse.

“Optimus? The bitlet’s gone... No, I don’t know where! They were both offline when I left the room!”

Dreadwind listened to the squabble, before the Autobot left the room in a hurry. Frag, the Prime was on his case now? Well, he’d better start running. Starscream would be okay, she could take care of herself well enough. After shimmying his out of the cabinet, he surveyed the room. There was no apparent exit other than the main one, until he turned his sights to the ceiling. Aha! A vent.

The little mech scrambled over tables, and after using his pede jets for a boost, managed to tear the grate away and slip inside, before scooting his way down the small passage. It was rusty and smelled like stale oil up in the tight space, but it was his best option.

After what felt like joors- or in reality, was fifteen kliks- he approached another grate. The room down below was quiet and darkened, and after forcing his way in, he finally had a moment to breath.

Or so he thought. Large servos clamped down around his chassis and waist, and he was hefted into the air before being brought out into the lit hallway, the mech who held him comming someone as he walked.

“Hey, I caught the little fragger! Bringin’ ‘em in now.”

The Autobot had a chuckle to his voice, and Dreadwind craned to see who it was as he strained to get out. Iron-something, he was pretty sure. That’s what the grip felt like, anyways. He likely wasn’t getting free, but there was no way he wasn’t putting up a fight. His systems were going wild, sending popup after popup about the danger he was in. He struggled, punched and kicked in desperation, and to no avail. But the true fear didn’t set in until they reached the next wing.

The door ahead of them slid open, and inside was waiting the Prime himself. Starscream never said much on him, but he’d heard enough from the other ‘Cons to realize that this was probably a bad situation to be in. Optimus seemed like an untouchable mech, and one who wasn’t afraid to harm when it came to it. You did not want to be on the other side of his stern stare, as the young Decepticon was now.

Without even letting the Autobot leader start, Dreadwind began babbling like a sparkling. Which, to be fair, he basically was.

“You don’t want to hurt me, my creator is gonna kill you! I don’t know what you did in there, but any klik now she’s going to wake up and kick your afts! You won’t even know what hit you, you stupid ground pounders! If there’s so much as a scratch- !”

The convoy gave a heavy sigh from his desk seat. “Primus, you sound just like your carrier.”

“I- ... What?” Dreadwind’s mood quickly flip flopped to confusion.

Rather than answer him, though, Optimus motioned to the other Autobot, speaking tiredly. “Ironhide, put him down and just keep watch outside.”

The red ‘Bot nodded, releasing his captive. “Alright, Prime. Just say the word if you need anything.”

After a “will do,”, and the exit of the mech, Optimus turned his attention to the bitlet.

“I take it you’re confused. I don’t blame you, things should have been handled diff-”

“Where’s my creator?”

The Prime blinked, not expecting the question, yet not hesitating in his answer. “Starscream? She’s just having repairs done, I can assure you that-”

Dreadwind wasn’t having it. It’d been a long day, and he wasn’t made for this. Any of it. The rough handling, the confusion of the Autobot base and the chaos of the battlefield. He suddenly just felt too small and too scared to be dealing with any of this. Before he could stop it, coolant was gathering once again in his optics, and his vocalizer began to fritz with rattlement.

“Wh-Where’s my creator?”

Another answer, with no hesitation. “The medbay, she’s-”

“I-I don’t-” Dreadwind’s voice got caught as he interrupted again, and he wiped his face as if trying to calm the sudden burst of emotion. “I- I wanna go h-home, I want St- Starscream, I-”

Suddenly, Optimus was crouching down to him, taking a mesh cloth from his subspace and dabbing at Dreadwind’s tears. He had experience in this type of ordeal, that much was clear.

“It's alright, no need to get upset. Would you like to go see her? She isn’t online yet, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the company.”

His voice was soft, almost a comfort. With a teary nod, Dreadwind took the offered servo, and followed the massive ‘Bot as he was led to where Starscream was resting. The other mechs around the base feigned no interest in the pair as they made their way through the corridors, but it was obvious they were all scratching their helms as to why the young Decepticon- assumed to have been a prisoner along with the Second in Command- was walking around with their leader.

In no time at all, they were back in the room that Dreadwind worked so hard to escape. Starscream had barely moved, and upon seeing her, the ‘Con was thrown into another eruption of tears. Optimus pat his back in comfort, looking between the two silently. It was a good twenty kliks until the bitlet was calmed, holding one of his creator’s taloned servos. It was only then that the Autobot spoke up.

“She will be okay, Dreadwind. We have one of the best medics on Cybertron taking care of her, and she’s been through worse than this.”

“..I’ve never even been to Cybertron, you could be lying.” He then paused, turning to look up at Optimus as he wiped the last of the coolant away. “And how do you know that? Maybe this is the worst thing that’s ever happened, and your stupid medic is making it worse.”

The Prime chuckled as Starscream’s imprinted behavior rose to the surface, but his gaze continued to rest on the Seeker’s frame. “I've seen it, she will recover. Trust me”

“... Alright.” Of course, Dreadwind didn’t trust him. Not yet. But what choice did he have?

“Now,” Optimus began, as he looked down at the little ‘Con. “Where will you be recharging tonight? You can stay here, or I can set up the extra slab in Bumblebee’s quarters. He’s a little older than you, but he’d love the company.”

Bumblebee... He was the little yellow one, right? He wouldn’t be so bad. He probably couldn’t even put up a fight, he didn’t look the type. That would give Dreadwind the perfect opportunity to run for it if needed.

“Um... Can I meet Bumblebee?”

The Prime nodded, and began to lead them both out of the room. “Of course. His hab is down this way.”

Before they could leave, however, the Decepticon let go of Optimus’ hand, and ran over to Starscream to wish her a quiet goodbye. “Online soon, okay? I love you.”

And then, with a peck to her helm, he was off.

Chapter Text

“And that’s when we realized it wasn’t even energon! It was just some stupid glowing human thing! We still ate it, though, we went through the effort to get it.”

Optimus laughed, raising an optical ridge. “I assume it didn’t fare well in your tanks, yes?”

“Well... no, not really.” Dreadwind looked a bit embarrassed, scratching his mask with a single digit. “Frenzy purged like a joor after we ate it, and me and Rumble had really bad tank-aches. But it was fun before that!”

The two were walking towards the other side of the Ark, to Bumblebee’s quarters. Optimus, in an attempt to get the young ‘Con’s mind off of his injured creator, struck up a conversation, which had turned into Dreadwind recounting the hijinks he had gotten up to with the cassette twins. They were a few anocycles older than him- much closer in age to Bee than Dreadwind- but that didn’t stop the trio from getting along and into trouble.

As he finished his tale of what Optimus assumed to be a neon shop sign, the pair rounded the corner and arrived at Bumblebee’s door. Dreadwind promptly quieted down, suddenly feeling anxious. Why did he agree to this? He really wished he hadn’t. There was no turning back now, though. Optimus knocked on the door, and it slid open just enough to reveal what could only be described as a disgruntled, tired teenager.

“Carrier, I’m trying to sleep.” Bumblebee looked pointedly at Optimus, ignoring the smaller mech for now. “Like you told me to.” Dreadwind was surprised to hear that the Autobot leader was a creator, but didn’t have time to dwell on it, attention snared by the voice beside him.

“I know, and I apologize, Bug. We,” He motions towards his charge, who was now fiddling with his servos, “were wondering if you would mind sharing a room for the night.”

The yellow ‘Bot looked annoyed at both the nickname and request, turning on his comm link to pass on whatever he had to say with a tap to his helm. Optimus did so in turn, and the two- from the Decepticon’s perspective- had a silent, animated conversation. Finally, Bumblebee seemed to relent, stepping into his hab and unfolding the slab in the corner huffily.

Dreadwind was really feeling shy now, nervous even. Up close, Bumblebee was much less soft looking, and a lot more rough, for lack of better words. Maybe he was just tired, though. Yeah, that could be it. When Starscream needed to recharge, she got grouchy too. It didn't mean the scout was, well, mean.

Calmed by that thought, he took the mesh blanket offered to him, and sat down on the slab, which now rested on the floor. This wasn’t so bad. Not as comfortable as his berth at home, but it would do for now. Even without the familiar huddle of Seekers, he could manage.

But, after Optimus bade them a good night and left, he found himself proven wrong. It became pitch black, save for the dull glow of the two mech’s biolights, and cold. Dreadwind pulled the blanket closer around himself, trying to imitate the comfort of warm, protective frames recharging around him. This went on for a good ten kliks, shifting and huddling and trying not to get upset again, before the light was flicked on by Bumblebee with a grumble.

“Why are you moving so much? It’s loud, you’re supposed to be recharging.”

Dreadwind wasn’t sure how to respond, and shrugged before looking away. He didn’t feel like explaining it all to someone who probably didn’t care.

There was a silence between them, like a staring contest with no optic contact, before the Autobot finally sighed and patted beside him.

“C’mere.”

The bitlet hesitated before the chill convinced him to comply, and he quickly hustled himself over and proceeded to curl up on the berth. Bumblebee shut off the light and turned his back to him, before speaking quietly.

“Long day?”

“... Yeah.”

“I get that,” he yawned. “You not used to sleeping alone?”

Dreadwind thought about sharing information, before deeming there wasn’t a threat in giving away a few tidbits. “No, my creator and her trine are usually there.”

“Pfft, never took Starscream to be a cuddler. Or any Decepticon, for that matter,” Bumblebee admitted.

“Trines always recharge together, if they can. You wouldn’t get it, you’re not a Seeker, you're just a stupid car.”

“Hey, cars aren’t stupid. Maybe I like having four wheels.”

“Your wheels just get in the way of everything, though.”

Bumblebee scoffed. “And wings don’t? They’re huge, how do you even manage to recharge with anyone?”

“They fold, duh.” Dreadwind fluttered them, bumping the ‘Bot on purpose. “Mine are always folded, you’d know if they weren’t.”

“Primus, flight frames are so weird.”

“Well maybe grounders are afts, and don’t know anything, and grounder Decepticons are better than grounder Autobots, because at least they bother to know slag about Seekers.” The little mech was beginning to get riled up, despite his best efforts.

At the outburst, Bumblebee grumbled, a hint of lighthearted annoyance in his voice. “You sure got a big mouth for someone in an Autobot base. Where'd you even learn the word aft?”

“Aren’t we supposed to be recharging? ”

“Yeah, whatever. ’Night, ‘Con.”

“... Night, ‘Bot.”

Chapter Text

Dreadwind awoke late in the morning, noticing that Bumblebee was gone right away. After sitting up, he allowed his systems a moment to initialize, before he left the room. He survived the night, he wouldn’t be taking that for granted.

Focusing on more pressing matters, he switched his train of thought. It wouldn’t be too hard to find the medbay again, right? He guessed it was in a central location, for easy access from any area of the Ark. With that in mind, he headed down the hall he came from, ending up in some sort of common room.

Although keen to begin his search from there, he quickly found himself to be hindered by all of the busy bodied Autobots. His instinct was to hide away from them, but that might ignite another chase, and he was looking to avoid as much trouble as possible, at least for now. So, finding the most approachable looking one, the young ‘Con wasted no time in asking questions.

“Hey, headfins, where’s the medbay?”

The Autobot in question turned around, confused, before realizing the voice was coming from a source below his height range. He didn't hesitate to lean down to listen better. “What’s that, little guy? Didn’t quite hear ya.”

“I asked where the medbay was. I’m looking for Starscream.”

“Ohh, you must be her bitlet, yeah?” The mech offered a smile beneath his mask. “You remind me of one’ve my own, got that same look in your optics.”

“That’s cool, but I don’t know where my creator is, still.” Primus, this ‘Bot was chatty. Dreadwind received a laugh at the statement, though, so hopefully that meant an acknowledgement of it.

“Right to the point, huh? Well, you’re gonna wanna  go back in the hall, take two rights an’ a left, an’ then go right through the double doors.” He motioned with his servos as he spoke, headfins flashing animatedly with every word.

“Two rights and a left... Okay, I got that. Thank you.”

“‘Course, take care now.”

And with that, Dreadwind was off. Getting there was the easy part, but getting in? Not so much. He just couldn’t figure out the code to the door, and after what felt like a million tries, finally gave up and sat in the hall. Waiting for someone to come along was his best plan, so he stuck to it. It was only a few nanokliks, though, before he realized there was a conversation going on within the room. And naturally, being the nosy little mech he was, he listened in. There seemed to be two voices, but the nature of the discussion was indeterminable.

“... been anocycles… ”

“What could... Not like… ”

“I know.. would’ve been… ”

This continued for about half a joor, until a mech that Dreadwind didn’t recognize showed up. Guessing from the red and white color scheme, he was the medic, and he was here to check up on his patient. He gave the little mech a knowing look, before he wordlessly unlocked the door and stepped inside. Immediately, though, the medic's arms crossed at the scene before them.

Optimus Prime was leaning over the table, supporting himself with one arm, while Starscream was pulling him down close with her own, propping herself up on an elbow. For a moment, Dreadwind thought they were just whispering to one another, before recognizing their locked dermas and closed, blissful optics. It was like something from an ancient, pre-war Cybertronian movie- romantic, a scene that warmed the spark- until the little Seeker promptly pulled a face, and exclaimed, “Ew! ”

Instantly, the mechs were separated. Starscream’s intake curled into a look of surprised aggravation, and Optimus’ battle mask slammed shut as he stepped back. The medic, in comparison, looked unfazed.

“Ratchet! What in the P-P-Pit are you- bzz- d-d- d-doing here?!” It was obviously the embarrassment talking more than her processor, but Starscream was Starscream, at least. Dreadwind watched, speechless, as "Ratchet" ignored her and began to inspect her welded throat cables.

“Vocalizer is still fragged..nothing that time won’t heal, but I can’t really do much more for you.”

Swatting at him roughly, Starscream began her bewailing again. “G-G-Get your grimy servos off of m-me, I’m- bzzz- fine! Primus, you-” She suddenly gasped, sounding even more insulted than before, “Are you cuffing me to th-the- bzz- table?!”

It was now that Dreadwind butted in, the kiss momentarily forgotten. “Hey, I’m not cuffed, and I haven’t done anything!”

“Technically,” Ratchet said, turning to give the bitlet an annoyed look, “you should be. You’re here as a legal prisoner of war. But someone ,” This time, the look was pointed at Optimus, “gave me orders not to.”

Unsure of what to say next, or if Ratchet was being serious about cuffing him or not, Dreadwind gave his attention to the Prime, who had taken a sudden interest in the scattered medical equipment while the spotlight wasn’t on him.

“Dammit, d-d-d-don’t- bzz- just stand th- bzz- ere like a p-p-piece of scrap!” Starscream’s annoyance was increasing, along with the effort it took to talk, but that didn’t stop her from barking at the Autobot leader. Dreadwind wasn’t so sure how he felt about the obvious familiarity that his creator had with issuing Optimus commands, but bit his glossa.

“Well,” The Prime began, seeming less and less like an “above it all” leader by the second, “Why would I want to restrain a bitlet with such force?”

“Because he’s the sparkling of the Decepticon Second in Command?” Ratchet said as he raised an optical ridge at his leader, who was quick to respond.

“Ratchet, old friend, even you couldn’t detain a sparkling in such a manner.”

The medic laughed. “Fair, fair. But that doesn’t-”

Before he could finish, however, Optimus raised a servo, the other going to his audial to answer an incoming comm. Dreadwind thought he was being rude, but Ratchet clearly didn’t care, so it must have been a normal occurrence.

Starscream, on the other hand, wasn’t having it. “F-F-Frag, you’re such a daft-t-t-t-” The tick continued, until she smacked at her vocalizer and laid back down on the table in frustration. The whole situation was clearly pissing her off to a degree that Dreadwind rarely saw, and he wasn’t about to irritate her any more by asking what in the Pit she was doing with the Prime earlier, even if the lapse in conversation made it perfect. Instead, he opted to talk about a different, more pressing matter.

“Creator?”

Seemingly snapped out of her stewing, she looked over to the little ‘Con with a vent. “Yes, s-s- bzz- weetspark?”

“Are you gonna be okay?”

With a soft smile, she nodded. “Of c- c- course. When have- ve- ve I not- bzz- been?”

Dreadwind shrugged, leaning his arms on the slab. “You just... looked pretty bad yesterday, I guess.” He rested his helm on his arms next. “And now you're covered in slag-"

“Lang- g- guage.”

He taps at her welding with a digit. “Sorry. But now you're covered in stuff everywhere , and you still look bad, and there was a lot of energon, and... ”

Her ridges knitted in concern at his trailing off, she tilts her helm towards him. “Wh-What is it-t- t?”

He simply shrugs again, and she motions with her free arm.

“C- C- Come here, Dread- bzz- wind.”

He gladly allowed himself to be pulled into the hug, even if he had to stand on the tips of his pedes, and rested against her chassis as she spoke again.

“I'm alright- t- t, and th- th- bzz- that's wha- t- t we're going to f- bzz- focus on, ok- k- kay?”

When she got no response, she continued, despite the obvious strain it was putting on her vocalizer. “Soon, everyth- thing will be ba- ck- ck to- bzz- normal. You'll be t- t- t-taking flight lessons with m- me again, Thunderc- c- crack- cker will be teaching you- bzz- defense..Oh, and Sk- Sk- Skywarp still wants t- bzz- to give you that e- e- energon prep- p- p- paration lesson!”

When even more silence followed, she looked down to her sparkling. “Not t- t- to mention… ” She began, pinching his side and getting a giggle out of him before lowering the volume of her voice, “You need t- bzz- to get home so you c- c- can clean your s- side of the- bzz- hab.”

“What!” Dreadwind stands straight, forgetting his previous worries. “But I cleaned it last week!”

Ratchet hushed him- presumably because the Prime was on call- and a venomous look replaced Starscream's previous smirk. But before words could be traded, Optimus commandeered their attention.

“I need to excuse myself, a situation has arisen. I’ll only be a-”

“Ohhhh n- n- no, you’re not- bzz- get- t- t- ting away that- t- t easily!” Starscream sat up, glaring daggers. Whatever business there was- Dreadwind guessed it had to do with... earlier affairs- had been left unfinished, and she wanted it over with.

“Star-” Optimus rubbed between his optics, taking a moment to rethink what he was about to say. With indignation, the Seeker hiked her wings high and stared him down.

“Starscream, it’s your trine. They’ve captured two of my mechs, I believe they’re going to attempt a hostage exchange. I need to-”

And, like creator like sparkling, Dreadwind swiftly interrupted the leader once again. “Ha! You’re gonna get it, Autobots!”

Chapter Text

The next few joors were hectic. Dreadwind watched as Starscream was assisted to the conference room to discuss their own negotiations, and Autobots rushed in and out with reports and updates, the hostage situation wanting to be solved right away. The young Decepticon didn’t understand why they didn’t just go through with the exchange, he would gladly return to the Nemesis and distance himself from all these mechs. His creator said it had something to do with “diplomacy”, but he just plain wasn’t paying attention.

No, Dreadwind had more pressing matters on his processor, first and foremost being his next escape. It would be even harder this time without the element of surprise on his side, but he just had to get out there to see Thundercracker and Skywarp. Also to make fun of whatever poor ‘Bots they had nabbed, but that was a secondary concern.

Sitting up from his chair in the corner of the room, the young mech surveyed his surroundings. Two Autobots guarded the door, and there were dozens inside the room itself. But that was one thing that he could use to his advantage; the constant stream of frames heading in and out would make the perfect cover. He just had to wait for a thick enough crowd, and he’d be home free.

The chance came only a few kliks after his plan was formed- a mass of ‘Bots leaving as Teletraan released another round of updates. He doubted he was noticed as he filed out, avoiding pedes and fast walkers, too caught up in their own business to look down. As the crowd turned to the main control room, Dreadwind slipped away, finding himself in an empty hallway.

This was when his problem presented itself. He didn’t have the faintest idea where he was, or how to stage his breakout, and turning on any lights would likely alert the Autobots around. So more than one problem, really, but he’d focus on one at a time. If blindly stumbling in the dark meant getting to the rest of the trine, then so be it. Adjusting his optics as best he could, he set off on his aimless course.

After a few kliks of avoiding the light and commotion of others, Dreadwind found his way into what he would assume was a storage room. Just wonderful, full of nothing but useless boxes and shelves. With an annoyed vent, he turned around, only to not see the outline of the door he had come through in the dark. Slag, where did it go? Fumbling, he stepped forward, but stopped suddenly when he heard the familiar mechanical whirrs of a transformation cog.

There was a moment of silence, and then he called out.

“Um... anyone there?”

Before he could even look around- as if it would do any good without light- he felt his knees buckle as something slammed into them from behind, and he tumbled to the floor.

“What the- Hey! ” He pushed the assailant off surprisingly easily, booting up his pede jet in bursts so he could see. Why didn’t he think of using it earlier earlier?

In front of him was a very angry looking..what even was it? Tilting his helm, Dreadwind leaned a little forward, getting a closer look at the tiny creature. Sharp teeth, little arms- was that a tail? Well, at least they looked like they were metallico.

“Primus, you’re sort of ugly... What kind of turbofox are you?”

He was surprised when the “turbofox” talked right back.

“Me Grimlock no turbofox! ” Cue a swift kick to the ‘Con’s leg. “Me Grimlock tyranno.. Uh, tyra… ” The sparkling looked behind himself and into the dark, where another small voice answered for him.

“T-Rex!”

“Yeah! Me Grimlock a T-Rex!” The sparkling then transformed back to his root mode, standing proud.

“Uh... okay. What’s “you Grimlock” doing in a closet?” Dreadwind stood and crossed his arms, raising an optical ridge and conveniently ignoring that he himself was in there as well.

Suddenly looking guilty, the bitlet kicking at the floor a bit. “Well..Us Dinobots aren’t supposed to be, but creators don’t know. We’re playing cave explorers!”

It was then that he was joined by what Dreadwind could only assume were his siblings, some in their weird altmodes, and the others in their roots. In total there was five, and a small part of the Decepticon hoped this wasn’t some sort of friendly vermin infestation.

“You all look kinda like organics. What are you supposed to be?” He swore that he had seen something like them somewhere, but couldn’t place it.

It was the one in alt mode with three horns that spoke up this time. “We Dinobots, Grimlock already said!”

Dinobots, huh? Well, whatever that was and what they were, they might know the answer to at least one of his problems.

After thinking a moment, Dreadwind spoke. “Well, Dinobots, I won’t tell your creators that you’re here if you show me a way off the Ark.” It was a long shot that these little sparklings knew how to get off the ship, but it was one he’d have to take. Frag did he hope this would work, he could easily be called on his bluff when it came to knowing their creators.

“Me Swoop knows!” The smallest of the bunch raised a servo in the air, silencing the thoughts of the possibility of a discovered deception, then hurried to the front. Dreadwind felt a small pang of relief when he recognized wings, followed quickly by homesickness. He wanted more than anything to get as quickly as he could off of this base and with his trine.

“Can you show me, Swoop?”

With an excited nod, he took the ‘Con’s servo in his own, and lead him out of the storage room as the others followed suit, much to Grimlock’s clear annoyance.

“Swoop is interrupting cave explorers! We was just reaching the good part!”

Dreadwind snickered, and looked back to the T-Rex. “You guys can keep playing after I’m gone, you know.” He hadn’t meant to interrupt their game, but business was business.

“Grimlock knows, which is why you should be gone fast.” Grimlock crossed his arms, and if he had a visible mouth, there’s no doubt that it would be frowning.

Swoop hushed him, before turning to look at the older mech. “Does you have a name?”

“What?” Someone didn’t teach these sparklings to speak right, Primus. “Of course I do, it’s Dreadwind.”

“Is Dreadwind Autobot?”

He faltered, before shaking his helm. It didn’t matter what he told them, he realized, because everyone who could actually use the knowledge of his faction against him knew it already. “No, I’m a Decepticon. But,” He added, “We’re not as bad as you guys think, before you get all mad.”

“Me Grimlock thinks Decepticons are stupid.”

Grimlock was shushed again by Swoop, who in turn earned a snarl that was promptly ignored. “Is that why Dreadwind’s brand purple?”

“Oh, yeah, it is. My creator painted it on.” He looks down at the symbol on his chassis, and then at the winged Dinobot curiously. “Where are yours?”

“Carrier says we decide that when Dinobots are older. Swoop wants them on wings.” He flaps his enthusiastically, and with a small laugh, Dreadwind returns the sentiment with a flutter of his own. It was... interesting, to be meeting mechs with no brands. He had never seen anyone without one, whether it be Autobot or Decepticon, and his own emblems had been painted on for as long as he could remember. Not that he was complaining, of course, he had been thoroughly educated on the history of the war and was happy with where he was. It was just a foreign concept to him.

Realizing the little flier was waiting for a response, Dreadwind asked, “Big brands, or little ones?”

“The biggest!” He exclaimed excitedly.

This small talk went on between the group until they reached an unfamiliar habsuite. The Dreadwind hesitated at the door before entering with the others, peering around the unknown, yet homey, space. He guessed this was where the Dinobots lived, but he didn’t see any ways out until Swoop ran over to the window, above a counter covered in used cubes. A lot of ‘Bots means a lot of energon, Dreadwind figured.

“Me Swoop needs help up.” The Dinobot said, resting his servos on the counter and looking behind himself and at his brother expectantly.

“Well me Grimlock not going to help you Swoop,” the T-Rex announced, crossing his arms, and giving the flier the cold shoulder.

Letting go, Swoop asked, “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

“Well,” he began to retort, face turning sour. “You Grimlock is a bumper.”

With an audible gasp, the sparkling in question stopped his stewing and turned. “You Swoop take that back!”

“You Grimlock is a buuumpeeer~” The flier let go of the counter and stuck his glossa out at the T-rex, before letting out a sudden shriek, having been tackled to the ground. They tussled with one another for a good five kliks, the other three Dinobots- and Dreadwind, to an extent- cheering for who they wanted to win. But before a victor could be declared, a familiar voice sounded from behind the them all.

“Hey now, what kinda fight club did I just walk into?”

The bitlets collectively turned around, only to see the mech with headfins from earlier standing in the doorway, arms crossed. For a nanosecond, everyone just stared at him, before the Dinobots suddenly scattered. It was then, with a small laugh, that the ‘Bot stepped inside.

“If you were lookin’ for the candy an’ blamin’ one another about eatin’ it, I regret to inform you that it just ain’t in the cabinet anymore, guys.” After sparing a confused glance at the ‘Con, he headed into one of the rooms that the sparklings had dashed into.

Dreadwind watched him with caution, unsure if he should say anything. He could only assume that this must be one of the Dinobot’s creators, with the way they giggled and dashed out into the common room again to avoid capture, no fear on their faceplates. He elected to say nothing, though, and did just that until the Autobot finally addressed him.

“Uh... Dreadwind, right? I thought you were in the conference room with your creator.” He scratches his helm, then holds out a servo. “Uh, I’m Wheeljack, by the way, chief engineer. I can tell you met my sparklin's, real rambunctious bunch.” His optics creased with a smile, but that was quickly followed with furrowed optical ridges and a frown, his gaze shifting from the Dinobots to the door. “I should probably get you back to at least the command room, before Starscream realizes you’re gone an’ tears the Ark apart.”

Frag, that threw a wrench in everything. Before he could control his vocalizer, the Decepticon was already objecting.

“No! No, I can’t, I’m, uh..” He looked to the window, thanking Primus for a laid out excuse. “She told me to go stretch my wings, and I couldn’t find a way out. Swoop was showing me.”

“Did she now?” The mech narrowed his optics in clear suspicion, crossing his arms once again. “Why not just go to the hangar, or out the gangway? Both’re roomier than a window .”

“You… have a hangar?”

There was a staring match between the two, as if testing wills, before Wheeljack finally vented, and his expression softened. “Yes, we do. I’ll take you there.” He then added, “‘Sides, I bolted the window shut. You wouldn't be gettin’ out that way in the first place.”

From the Dinobot group, who now occupied with a small bin of human trinkets, the little flight frame made a loud noise of miffed surprise. There goes the little guy’s personal escape, Dreadwind supposed. Turning his attention back to the mech in front of him, he spoke up.

“Can you take me to the hangar now, please?”

The engineer eyed him once more, before making a sort of shrugging motion and and motioning him to follow, sounding resigned. “Alright, yeah, we’re goin’. But if you’re lyin’ like I think you are, don’t blame me when you get in trouble.”

Well, Dreadwind apparently wasn’t as sly was he thought. But whatever, he had gotten his way. Before leaving the suite, he made sure to bid goodbye to the sparklings, and then followed the older mech down the halls until they reached the large space.

“It’s so..empty.” The ‘Con remarked, thoroughly unimpressed by the sight he arrived to. He had expected more; he knew the Autobots had fliers, but the amount couldn’t be this small, could it? The hangar was practically empty .

“Well, it’s only really used by Skyfire an’ his little posse. Most of us got ground modes, as you can probably guess, so we don’t hang ‘round here.” Wheeljack eyed Dreadwind again as he began to snoop around, as if expecting him to start rummaging through someone’s personal belongings. He was smarter than that, though, knowing to at least wait until he wasn’t under surveillance.

“I think Starscream talks about Skyfire, sometimes,” he stated, inspecting a can of wing polish casually as possible. “He’s the big guy, right? Who turns into a spaceship or something.”

“Yeah, that’s him. A big softie, ‘s a shame you never got to meet ‘im.” Finally, the Autobot broke his observation of the Decepticon to go open the hangar doors.

“No offense, but I think if he joined you guys, he might not be as nice as you say.” Dreadwind put the can down, trailing after Wheeljack. He had better stuff at home, no need to snag it.

“Careful kid, remember where you are.” The engineer huffed, punching in a code before the large door- that Dreadwind assumed had been a wall, in all honesty- began to open. Ahead of him was the vast desert, barren and dry. The ‘Con grumbled. It was dirty as Pit, too. But that wasn’t his biggest worry right now, so he brushed it to the back of his processor.

“Thanks, uh… Wheeljack?”

The ‘Bot chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, ‘s Wheeljack. Now get out there, an’ close up when you come back, ‘kay?”

“Yes sir.” Dreadwind nodded a promise that would go unfulfilled, and then hopped out of the exit and into the sky.

Chapter Text

This whole hostage fuss was a complete drag to the Decepticon SIC. Starscream didn’t give a frag about peaceful negotiations, if she had it her way things would be smoothed over by now. Who needs diplomacy when it’s so much easier to just allow her and Dreadwind to leave in exchange for those stupid Autobots! Usually if stranded on the Ark- not to say that was often- she would claim she was in no rush to go, which meant more time to stare at Optimus’ Primus given aft. But she was in a Pit of a mood today, so she couldn’t even enjoy that. His refusal in the medbay to explain any part of their situation to the distressed bitlet had soured her stay on the ship.

Glancing behind herself, she noted the chair Dreadwind had been in was empty, before turning back to finish reading the report in front of her. So much reading today, it was dreadful. She already knew practically everything about the situation thanks to a discreet within-comm-range flyby from Thundercracker, she shouldn’t even bother-

Wait, empty?

Turning again, she confirmed that the chair was indeed devoid of her creation, and despite the pain in her frame, shot up in a panic.

“Exc- cuse me,” She began to the nearest Autobots, but each plea fell on deaf audials. Now wasn’t the time to ignore her, damn it! She would show them that she was named Starscream for a fragging reason, she decided, resetting her vocalizer.

“WHERE ,” She demanded, slamming the table and yelling as loud as her damaged vocalizer would go, in an attempt to be heard over the crowd, “ IS- bzz- MY SP-SPARKLING! ”

Immediately- much to her momentary satisfaction- a hush fell over the gaggle of ‘Bots in the room, all glancing around in confusion before the collective attention settled on Starscream. But, when she opened her intake to bark directions at them, it only produced static. Slag, what? She didn’t have time for a completely malfunctioning vocalizer, not now! Not when her little jet could be lost, or scared, or worse, bitnapped . Primus, she didn’t even want to think about that.

Straining her arm against the cuff that trapped her to the chair, she looked around the stilled crowd, but to no avail. It was a bitnapping, wasn’t it? Dreadwind had been whisked away by some sleazy Autobot while her back was turned, and now he was gone forever , and she was the worst creator to have been sparked, and-

The Seeker was torn from her publicly spiralling paranoia by a large servo settling on her shoulder. Turning, half of her was relieved by the nervous blue optics that met her own, but the other was furious that the mech would dare act as if he didn’t know her prior grievances towards him. Despite this, however, she let the Prime speak in her place to the crowd, desperate for him to command any sort of help.

“If any of you have seen Dreadwind- Perceptor, a visual on the datapads if you will- I ask that you report to either me or Starscream, and to let him know that we’re looking for him. Bumblebee,” he continued, looking towards the yellow ‘Bot at the end of the room, “Would you gather a few mechs to help search? And the rest of you, keep an optic out.”

When the crowd at last took up their duties, Starscream finally spoke to Optimus. Through comms, of course. She doubted she would be able to say anything for a while.

::That’s not going to help find him, you know. A couple of Autobots looking around? For Primus’ sake, he’s afraid of Autobots, Orion. ::

The Prime offered a comforting rub to her wing, grateful for the wall behind them both to keep the action concealed. ::He shouldn’t have fear, none of them are going to- ::

She cut him off, crossing her arms. ::Don’t give me that slag, we both remember how counting on the good will of your mechs went last time. You’re lucky he doesn’t even remember, or I doubt he’d even bother looking at a filthy ‘Bot. ::

Optimus went silent, and after a klik Starscream glared up at him expectantly. Only when he returned the gaze- though not with the same ire- did he reply.

::I am sorry, my star. ::

Her expression hardened and her wings hiked high, as if she was going to throw one of her infamous fits, but it was over in an instant at the sight of Prime's genuine face. They had been over this hundreds of times; what more was there to say?

Breaking off her gaze, she forced her wings to relax, and leaned against Optimus ever so slightly. It was clear she was giving up the battle for once, and her final comm solidified that idea.

::I know you are. Please, just prove that to me. ::

Chapter Text

Darkness settled quickly in the desert, and with it a protoform rattling chill. Dreadwind soared through the sky, regretting his decision more and more by the second. He should go back, he was too far from the Ark to comm Starscream to let her know he was okay, too far for her to even pick up his little EM field. She must have been worried sick.

With a shudder of exhaustion, he decided to land and take a rest, and plan what the Pit he was supposed to do next. Almost immediately, he regretted it, transforming lethargically into the sand and getting it caught in his gears with a vile crunch. If only Starscream were here, she would have-

No, no, he can’t be thinking about that right now, he had to focus on his mission. Focus on the mission, Dreadwind. Venting out as much sand as he could from his frame, he looked back in the direction he had come from. All he saw was the pale dirt, reminding him just how lost he was. Gross, crunchy dirt.

But despite how gross and crunchy it was, he practically collapsed in it, resting his optics while he held his helm in his servo. He could just slip into recharge right here, if not for the uncomfortably cool temperatures and sudden pop-ups clouding his processor. He almost elected to clear them, before realizing the urgency. Low fuel- he wouldn’t be able to transform into altmode soon.

Cold, dirty, and hungry, he stood up shakily and attempted a running head start to transform, only to slip on the fluid sand beneath him and go tumbling. His fall down the dune was a blur, barely registered as it happened until he was flat on the ground. It took him a moment to grasp his state, rolling himself over to look up at the sky as he wondered how long he had even been flying. A check of his internal chronometer told him it had been quite a few joors. He hadn’t flown that long in anocycles, not since...

Frag, his tank was too empty to process straight.

He offlined his optics again as he felt his transformation cog stall with hunger, resigned to his fate. He would just be buried by repulsive sand and forgotten for millions of years, like the stupid Ark had been. How could he have even expected this to work out? He didn’t know where Thundercracker and Skywarp were in the first place, didn’t properly plan, and had been wasting time and energy in a search that may have been in the wrong damn direction. It was doomed from the start, he decided, feeling his processor pushing him into stasis lock.

Dreadwind didn’t know how much time had passed until familiar servos were holding him close, gently triggering his mask retraction to fuel him. He was too sluggish to care, wanting nothing more than to take in the energon and slip back into his recharge. But that wish never came to fruition, and his systems threw him back into consciousness as they were re-energized.

Sitting up sooner than he was fully functional, he scrambled to get away from whatever mech was holding him close, before his audials finally picked up on the frantic voice coming from them.

“Dreads! C’mon, it’s- frag, stop hittin’ me! It’s Skywarp, ‘s me!”

“... Skywarp?” He ceased his assault, looking up at the Seeker. It took him a klik to process that it was them in front of him, before he lunged in for a hug.

“Skywarp, I missed you guys so much! It’s been awful on the Ark, it’s stuffy and cold, and everyone there is weird, and Creator isn’t even trying to escape, a-and you gotta do something!” He felt his vocalizer begin to catch with emotion, and reset it quickly, hiding his faceplate against Skywarp. “I really wanna go home.”

The pair sat a moment, the older mech cradling the small jet close in comfort. But then, before he could forget, Dreadwind added softly, “And Creator’s mad that you didn’t comm her first before taking the ‘Bots, by the way. Just so you know.”

“Yeah, TC told me, he was within range to pick up all her comms yesterday.” The purple Decepticon laughed a bit, then vented and rested their helm on Dreadwind’s. “Though to be fair, trines are notoriously bad at making decisions without their leader.”

Dreadwind couldn’t help but snicker at that, before turning his gaze away from Skywarp. “Hey, where is Thundercracker?”

“With our Autobot prisoners .” They motioned with their clawed purple servos for effect, and grinned down at the bitlet before attacking him with a tickle. “Wanna go see ‘em? Huh?”

Of course the little mech couldn’t say no to that, especially with such a strong argument. Skywarp led him away from the tiny camp- if its meager commodities could make it one- and to the bound captives. A red minicon and a yellow four wheeler, both bickering with the blue Seeker in front of them. When the minicon spotted the pair of jets approaching, he began to yell.

“Hey! That’s the little fragger that you wanted! C’mon, Thundercracker, let one of us go back to the Ark!”

“I think I should go back, Cliffjumper, since you’re so capable of.. doing whatever it is you do.” The yellow mech waved a cuffed servo, much to the indignance of the minicon.

“Shut up, Sunstreaker!” He kicked at him. “Primus, you’re fragging useless!”

“I’m not useless, I’m just incapacitated! You’re about as useful as I am right now!” He moved to kick back, before Thundercracker finally realized what the fight was about, and turned around. Immediately, a wide smile spread across his face, and he held his arms out.

“Dreadwind! C’mere, you!”

“Thundercracker!” The bitlet laughed, and jumped into the hug.

The large Seeker cracked a grin, striking a pose as he held the bitlet. “Yep, TC, in the metallico.” Once he got a laugh out of him, he continued. “So, how you feeling? You had us really worried, little guy. What were you even doing all the way out here?”

“Who cares ,” bemoaned Sunstreaker. “He’s the one who practically started this mess. Maybe getting lost in the desert was what he had coming.”

“Maybe missin’ a few denta is what you got comin’, you little- !” Skywarp’s wings hiked high as their null rays powered up, but before they could do anything, Thundercracker put a servo on the glass of their cockpit. He tossed the yellow Autobot a glare of warning as he set Dreadwind down, and held it a moment before he turned to face the other Seekers.

“I’ll deal with them later, Warp. We got more important things to focus on right now.”

“Like?” Cliffjumper asked, raising an optical ridge.

“Like your exchange negotiation,.” the blue mech barked, before he gave his attention back to the other Decepticons, rubbing his chin. “A party will be by in about a joor to give us a deal, though we may have to rework slag since Dreadwind’s here.”

“Um… Did I mess things up by coming here?”

Skywarp was quick to comfort him, shaking their helm. “No, no, ‘course not. We’re glad you’re here, an’ when Starscream finds out, I’m sure she’ll be happy to know. It just means we gotta figure out a new plan is all.”

“Oh,” Dreadwind frowned. He should have told Starscream that he was going, even if she would have tried to stop him. He knew his creator worried about everything, and that she likely wasn’t taking the fact that he just disappeared lightly.

As if noticing his uneasiness, Skywarp spoke up. “Hey, how ‘bout we go back to camp? We can wait for the ‘Bots, an’ I can get you a snack or somethin’. You’re probably still hungry, yeah?”

“I… yeah, I guess so,” he agreed, and the purple mech began to lead him back. But he couldn’t shake the guilt that was now planted in his processor. He had a feeling that this wasn’t going to end like he wanted it to.

When the two jets were finally seated with their energon, conversation spurred. Well, less so spurred than lead on by Skywarp, anyways.

“So,” they began, “How’s Screamer doin’? She looked pretty roughed up before the Autobots grabbed her.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll be okay,” Dreadwind assured as he took a sip from the cube. Ew, too bitter. “Her vocalizer is all messed up, and I guess she’s having trouble walking, but the medic with the gray chevron said she’d be fine, I think.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that. Ratchet- assumin’ we’re talkin’ about Ratchet- may be an Autobot, but he’s a medic at spark, he’d help anyone if they asked. An’ he’s damn good at it, too. Wish we had someone like that on the Nemesis.”

“I’m gonna tell Hook that you said that.”

“You will not be tellin’ Hook I said that. He’s gonna leave me to rust in the back of the medbay next time I show up with an injury, I swear to Primus.”

Dreadwind laughed at that, then took another drink from his cube and quieted down. It was Skywarp who once again reignited conversation, scooting closer to the bitlet.

“Hey, you okay? Still not feelin’ well?”

“Mmh… No, I feel fine.”

“Then why the long face?” They reached a servo over, and with a digit gave Dreadwind a half smile. “C’mon, I wanna see you brighten up, Dreads.”

He hesitated, but couldn’t help but spill at Skywarp’s pestering. “In the medbay, a day after we got there, I saw Creator, um…”

“Saw her what?”

“Like,” he seemed to squirm, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I dunno. Nevermind!”

“Was she okay? Dreadwind, if it’s somethin’ important, you gotta let me know.”

“I don’t know if it was. She was… kissing Prime, I think. And then they stopped, and she got mad at him for some reason?” He shrugs, tapping a digit against his cube. “Do they like… like like each other?”

Skywarp suddenly laughed, much to Dreadwind's chagrin.

"What's funny? I'm serious!" He insisted, downing the rest of the energon before he gave them a pointed look.

"Nothin', nothin', just- " they covered their intake to hide their smile, then continued. "I want you to take one guess at what kissin' means. C'mon, I know you know."

"... They do like one another?"

The purple jet nodded, and reached to take Dreadwind's now empty cube as they stifled another laugh. "Bingo, kiddo."

The little 'Con took a moment to mull that over. The idea of his creator liking the Autobot was just… it was mortifying . Now fiddling nervously with the locks on his mask, he pressed on. "I thought Prime was the enemy, though. Megatron said it was treason to be friends with Autobots."

"Since when has Starscream cared what Megatron declares?" Skywarp asked, rolling their optics. “‘Sides, you even know what treason means?” When the bitlet shook his helm, they went on to explain.

“Treason is basically gettin’ caught doing somethin’ your leader says not to. Emphasis on caught .”

“So Megatron doesn’t know, because she hasn’t been caught?” This was news to Dreadwind. He kind of just assumed he knew everything, thanks to Soundwave.

“Nope, an’ it’s our job to help keep it that way,” Skywarp finished.

“Wait, but how do you know about - “

Before he could finish the question, Thundercracker yelled to them, “Hey, you two ready? Looks like our company is arriving early!”

Dreadwind and Skywarp stood to look, and sure enough, a group of little dots and billowing dust was on the horizon, growing larger by the nanoklik. It was unclear who was approaching, but it was fast.

“Well,” Thundercracker said, breaking the silence, “I say we come up with something, and we do it now .”